Hands to Yourself
by Sis Spiffy
Summary: Minor spoilers for the Stormcloak questline. The Dragonborn fulfills a guards request to enchant his sword...without his knowledge. Who said a thief never did anything nice for the guards.


Background: Minor spoilers for the Stormcloak questline. I also do not own anything, Bethesda has all the ownership. I am such a weirdo when it comes to Skyrim. I work so hard to get my pickpocket up to 100 so I can pickpocket guard's masks off. I want to see what they look like. I don't know if the guard on the corner of the general shop and alchemy shop after the Stormcloaks take over is the same for everyone, but mine is the hottest Nord I've ever seen. So...here you go!

Whiterun was a quiet town, his position in the corner of the marketplace was calm. At most he'd broken apart a couple drunken brawls, and petty thievery was a problem occasionally, but it was easily handled. Ever since the Stormcloaks took over, his perch had been quiet...and boring. But, duty was duty, and he was safe unlike so many of his brothers and sisters who risked their lives everyday.

The climate of Whiterun was mild compared to the harsh cold of Windhelm. After spending many days in the frigid weather the warmer day was almost uncomfortable. The quaint chatter of the market was homey and the warm weather made his eyelids heavy. He closed them for a moment and when he opened them he was no longer looking through the barred slits of his helmet. He was almost grateful for the cool air on his face, but he knew it had been lifted off of him. He straightened his posture and narrowed his eyes looking for trouble. That was when he saw her, a small thing, but the Thieves Guild armor on her was a dead give away. He knew it was her, but he couldn't say anything unless he caught her in the act.

"You can try to hide it all you want, I know you're in the Thieves Guild, and so do the other guards." The guard addressed the thief, hoping to frighten her our of future thievery. However, the man knew the other guards probably didn't know of the woman's illegal hobbby. Most of the other guards spent their time on duty lamenting on the fact that they were missing the action, and as a result, did not watch for hints about people in their armor and behavior. But, beggars can't be choosers and the Stormcloaks needed every available hand.

The woman's eyes met his and he saw a look of worry hidden behind a mask of indifference. She smiled at him then and walked to one of the booths and began to talk to the owner. The guard watched her walk but soon lost interest. His eyes scanned the crowd once more, then fell on the sky. The thief didn't worry him nearly as much as the threat of a dragon attack. A helmet could be replaced, lost lives could not. He had to stay vigilant.

He uncrossed his arms for a moment and reached down to touch the sword on his left hip. He needed to take it to Adrianne, the blade had gone dull after the Battle for Whiterun, blunted by the stubborn blood of the Imperials.

He shook his head at his own thoughts and brought his attention back to the task at hand. The city demanded his attention, he owed these citizens protection. Most of them had been rather compliant about the Stormcloaks taking over, and he had no reason to withhold his best effort to protect them. Not all of them were Nords, but they deserved respect. They all worked hard to rebuild the city after the battle. The city was resilient, he'd give them that.

But even a strong city couldn't survive with a thief pulling boards up from under them. He would keep an eye on her now. Her hood was pulled back giving him a full view of her face. She had a weathered face, but still looked quite young, like a girl who had seen more than she needed to before her years. Her eyes were quick and sharp, but friendly around the edges. He wondered if the thief path had been the role she wanted, or the role she was forced into.

Deciding he'd had enough of these thoughts, he stood up straighter, and dared anyone to look in his newly exposed eyes. The mystery woman was the only one who had the spirit to do so. Brown met brown as the woman walked into the alchemy shop.

He listened for her to exit the building, careful not to let her take more from him. A while later the girl came out of the shop and he called out to her before she could get the jump on him.

"Don't suppose you'd enchant my sword? Dull old blade can barely cut butter."

The momentary shock was replaced by an unsettling, wolfish grin, "Sure, hand it over and I'll take care of it." She stepped towards him and brushed his arm with her hand. She was reaching for his blade when he saw it. The three scars like a claw mark on her face. They caught her lower lip and ran down her chin, marring her appearance. His arms crossed back over his chest as he looked down at the brown-eyed woman.

"Heard about you and your honeyed words..." This was true, all the guards passed around tales of the Stormcloak soldier with the scar. They said she had been "kissed by a dragon," and scarred by one as well. The claw marks gave away her identity and her reputation as being a flatterer. She exchanged petty words for gossip as if they were currency, swindling her way out of trouble with his fellow guards, he knew this woman was trouble.

She still stood politely to his right, her hand waiting. He shook his head and spoke, enunciating his words, "Hands to yourself, sneak thief."

The woman merely shrugged and walked into the general goods shop. The guard mentally sighed, Belethor, the owner, was loud. He could hear the greetings the Breton shouted out to his customers from his post.

_'Yes, Belethor, we know. Everything's for sale.'_ The guard thought bitterly.

His mind wandered once again, this time his thoughts were on home. He had received word yesterday that his sister would be married in two months time. It pained him that he would not be able to return home, but he replied sending his congratulations and an emerald necklace. The necklace had cost a months pay, but he knew his sister would love it. It would match her eyes. The guard smiled and continued to think of home, not noticing the woman steal out of the building towards him.

The guard did not notice his sword slowly sliding out of the sheath and he did not notice the woman making her way towards Eorland. She slipped the blade out of her pouch of stolen goods and inspected it on the way up the stairs to the Skyforge. The guard wasn't lying, the sword was dull and looked older than the guard who carried it. So, instead of sharpening it, she sold it and bought a Skyforge steel sword. The heavier steel was of better quality and the woman quickly sharpened the edges to lethal points.

Quickly, the woman ushered the steel weapon up the stairs of Dragonsreach. Entering the court wizards shop area, she tossed the elf a quick greeting and set to work on the sword. She leaned over the table and poured her full concentration into the sword, wanting it to be nice for the handsome guard.

He was charming, but seemingly unaware of the fact. She, however, knew of her charisma and used it to her advantage. She considered the sword her good deed for the Whiterun guards, after burning the city and uprooting its government, the guards deserved a treat, for she had not played a big role in assisting her brothers and sister in the battle. Her strengths lied in stealth and it was extremely difficult to slit a man's throat in the midst of a chaotic battle.

The sharpened and enchanted sword weighed heavily in the woman's pack as she trotted happily out of Dragonsreach. She would be lying if she said she was not excited about seeing the handsome Nord again. She wondered how his face would look when he discovered the new sword. It would be risky, slipping a heavier sword into the scabbard on his hip, but she had faith in her abilities. Trying to appear calm, she walked the stairs down to the bazaar with her head held high. She walked to the entrance of the city then crouched to avoid unnecessary eyes on her. She weaved behind the buildings then looped around Belethor's. She stood behind the guard, unseen and took a deep breath, the smell of nature filling her body with encouragement, and slipped the sword into place. The guard tensed for a moment, as if adjusting to the weight, once gone, them back again, but heavier on his left side. The woman ducked behind the building and peeked around. Satisfied that she was not caught, she strolled forward, lightly bumping into the Nord. He blinked away his thoughts and looked down at the woman.

She looked expectant, waiting for him to say something. Mumbling a quick, "Everything all right?" The guard looked away, searching for a distraction.

The woman nodded and left the man alone to his thoughts. She hoped he enjoyed the gift from her, the thief, the Thane, the Dragonborn.

The guard shook his head, puzzled by the woman. The bustle of the marketplace had died and now the man stood in silence, sharing the company of the setting sun. His hand absently mindedly went to rest upon his sword, but he drew back upon touching it. This was not his sword, a strange energy rushed through it. He drew it and looked at it. It was a Skyforge steel sword! He recognized it by the heavy steel and the stamp on the Gray-Manes on the hilt. The sword was also enchanted, with what, he was not sure, he only knew that it was. The guard almost laughed upon sheathing the grand weapon. It was much nicer than his old one, the edges bit into the scabbard they were so sharp.

Only one person could have done this, the thief from the market place. That means she snuck up on him and stole from him three times in one day. Well, the last time she gave him a marvelous gift, but it still involved the thief putting her hands on his things without him noticing. He needed to watch better. That fox would not get the jump on him anymore he swore it. He could see his job becoming a lot less boring if a certain lass was there to keep him on his toes.


End file.
